The Best Band-Aid
by Austin Blake
Summary: A resurrected Buffy has become isolated from the rest of the world, pondering her past in a dark depression...until her past shows up to help heal her wounds.


DISCLAIMER: Ah hell, you know what's yours and what isn't...  
  
DEDICATION: Molly...the frickin' best Buffy I know...could ANYONE generate more angst than she? Well, maybe so...but don't tell me that, 'less you want a half-eaten peach hurled at your head. What? I got hungry...  
  
  
  
  
THE BEST BAND-AID  
  
My tea's gone cold, I'm wonderin' why I  
Got out of bed at all  
The morning rain clouds at my window  
And I can't see at all  
And even if I could, it'd all be gray,  
Put your picture on my wall  
And it reminds me  
That it's not so bad, it's not so bad.  
-- Dido, "Thank You"  
  
My entire life seems to revolve around pain. Being in it. Dishing it out. Being in it while dishing it out. Dishing it out while being it in. Mostly, just being in it. A vampire and pretty much anything else that crosses me is dead within the next minute. They get the easy way out. I have to live in pain everyday, every minute, every second. I have unbearable agony racking my body, physical, emotional, and spiritual alike. But by some cruel twist of fate, I bear it. I endure.  
  
The physical can be taken care of rather easily. A little ointment there, a little Band-Aid here, and everything is better with time. But the emotional damage just gets worse with every tick of the clock. He just left to God knows where, fighting who knows what battles, suffering wounds of an unknown severity. I just know with everything in me that he feels it too. The emptiness. The void inside of him where I'm supposed to me. The hole in my heart where he's supposed to be. We just belong. Together. So how come we're not?  
  
Everyday it gets worse. The experience of having been in the glory of the divine afterlife is taking it's toll on me. I was dead, laid beneath the earth, forgotten by all except my closest friends. And him. In the ethereal mists that some would call Heaven, for what seemed like a split second, I had him again. Hearts, bodies, and souls all entwined with one another in a bond of such unadulterated love, a tie of such insurmountable purity, it would never be broken.  
  
Or maybe...that was just a memory.  
  
I had heard about his guilt towards me. Of course that he had left, that was a given. I only realize now what it took and what it did to him to walk away, what a sacrifice he made. His guilt as of late was a newfound form, directed towards the fact that he survived my death, that my passing didn't end it for him. When I sent him to Hell, I went on, somehow...but the guilt was an underlying factor, one I didn't feel through the despair of losing him. I survived, mostly due to his return from that horrendous place. I understood why he felt like he did. I understood a lot of things, even why he left that night without saying goodbye. But understanding doesn't make it easier.  
  
The fact is, though we love each other so immensely, I'm not with him. He's not with me. We're two hundred miles apart physically. But in our minds, we're still together. He's still holding me tightly, I'm still in his arms with my head nestled safely on his chest. All we have now are the memories. Both of us living in the past, wishing that somehow the Powers would trip on a banana peel, nudging the time controls, taking us back to those days when I was an innocent sixteen year old with a honey - undead and centuries my senior, but a honey nonetheless - for a boyfriend. As much as we hope for it, there's a part of us that knows it won't happen, that we're destined to be apart and together at the same time.  
  
I realize I haven't left my room in two weeks, and have said as many words as places I've been. I strip down for my daily routine of silent monotony, making my way in auto pilot to the bathroom. I hear the water start running, not even realizing I had turned the knob. I can't help but stare blankly at the drain, watching the water flow smoothly into the shadows below, unsuspecting of the fate that awaits it, like me. I can't say for sure anymore what the future holds for me. They predicted I was going to die, and I did. Twice. Talk about your fine print. I plug the drain, unable to watch it anymore.  
  
I hear a light rustle over the gentle roar of the water, and walk cautiously into my bedroom to investigate. When I get there, nothing is disturbed but my window, which stands open, the breeze filling the curtains. Their softness caresses my naked body as I shut the window, not remembering opening it. The slight wave of delightful sensations from my encounter with the drapery helps me to shrug the thought off. After all, I did a lot of things lately without thinking.  
  
I go back into the bathroom, seeing wisps of steam levitating from the water. I turn the knob slowly to cut off the flow, stepping into the warm fluid, letting it envelop me. I sit, basking in the embrace, letting it be a less-than-worthy replacement for his arms. I drift back, preparing to relax, when I realize the water at that end is just a few degrees cooler than the rest. I nod my head as if to shoo caution to the wind, thinking paranoia won't help me to unwind. I lay completely in the tub, my back resting against a somewhat warm surface, too curvy to be linoleum, but solid in it's own right. Suddenly, two arms glide around my waist beneath the water, and I feel a familiar weight resting on my head.  
  
"Angel..."  
  
He stayed silent, gentle kisses being placed at the nape of my neck, his affectionate lashes at the side of my neck with his tongue a welcome distraction. His body had been partially warmed due to the water, and he was using it to his advantage, nudging his chest into my back. I assume I nodded off during my bath, and that this was a dream. It had to be. I felt myself being lifted a bit into his lap, realizing his legs were on either side of me. His length brushed against my womanhood, and I shuddered at the sensation. It wasn't what I had longed for, but it was damned close. I was frightened at the aspect of his entrance, knowing the results if he followed through. However, when that familiar thickness filled me beneath the water so very slowly, all fear was banished from my mind. The gradual stretching of my internal muscles did little to relieve the pain of his measured damming of my orifice, but the pain was slight compared to the vast gratification his entry offered, his member working phenomenal magic as it pushed water in and out of my cavity, the ebb and flow of the fluid in me as it mixed with my juices causing astounding vibrations that penetrated any defenses I had left.  
  
I felt the tip graze my cervix, and I trembled. God, I'd forgotten how substantial he was. He settled me atop him, keeping his rigid shaft embedded within me as his hands wandered my body, satisfying needs I didn't even know I had. His arms wrapped around my waist again, my body clasping his member tightly. His fingertips danced across the crucial point of my womanhood, making my back involuntarily arch against his chest. I kissed the side of his neck tenderly, moaning softly into his ear. I whimpered as he toyed with the compilation of delicate sensors, the nerves firing as a massive throbbing overwhelmed them. Damn, he knew my body too well, even after but one night. Passion flared within me, though somewhere in my carnal fervor, my lust-clouded mind realized what he was doing. He was trying to please me without he himself going over the edge. And he was definitely succeeding.  
  
The dam burst within me, his extensive urging of the pulsating bud detonating a mammoth wave of pleasure that engulfed me as my lover slipped from my core. I writhed in his arms, pangs of bliss and wondrous aftershocks overwhelming my senses. After five minutes of intensity, I began to recover, settling in his arms. My body quivered as I kissed his chest soothingly, putting my head in it's rightful place. I lifted my head to better see him, noticing a small tear sliding forth from his deep brown eyes. I smiled assuringly, my hand tenderly nuzzling his cheek as it made it's way into the dark velvety softness of his hair. I gazed into those soft chocolate pools which looked at me as if offering an apology, a soft murmur reaching my ears.  
  
"Buffy...I love you..."  
  
I silently accepted the whispered declaration, offering a soft statement of adoration in return. I placed a kiss on his enjoyably cool lips, relishing in his presence, soaking up every curve, every scar, every nook and cranny, everything about him. For that lingering kiss, I swam in him. I breathed him, lived him, existed in only his arms. His body may have gone far away, but I recognized that his heart had stayed with me, just as he had taken mine. This was right, this was proper, this was true. I knew then that he'd come to stay, and had chosen the best way to tell me. His embrace can do wonders for an injured heart, and his unspoken pledge to stay with me forever cured what ailed me far better than Neosporin ever did.  
  
I still don't know where my future lies, but I know that whatever it is, we'll face it together as we were meant to. If I'm somehow destined to die a thousand more times, I wouldn't mind, because I know that he'd wait for me, fight for me, live for me, die for me. I feel like I could take on the world, do anything as long as he's nearby, there if I need him. If there's some prophecy that offers a third death, I'm up for a challenge.  
  
Bring it on.  
  
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THE END (?)  
  
  
Feedback, please. 


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